


Life's Best Part

by hqprotectionsquad



Series: Haikyuu!! One Shots [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hospitals, Illnesses, Parent Sawamura Daichi, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:35:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23660926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hqprotectionsquad/pseuds/hqprotectionsquad
Summary: Daichi is trying his best to be the dad you need him to be, while you are in the hospital.
Relationships: Sawamura Daichi/Reader
Series: Haikyuu!! One Shots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1702609
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Life's Best Part

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I am cross-posting my content from tumblr (hqprotectionsquad) to this AO3 account. I hope you all enjoy! If you liked this one shot, please leave a comment or kudos!

“Daddy, where is mommy going?” Daichi’s eyes are so tired and broken, but hearing that, he pinches his nose together. He has to be strong for his daughter, there’s no doubt about that, but she’s so innocent. She doesn’t deserve this.

“Ah, sweetheart,” Daichi pulls her into his lap. “Mommy is sick so she needs to become better. They’re going to fix her the best they can.”

Her appearance threatens pinpricks in the corners of his eye. Whenever Daichi and you go to family gatherings, all you guys ever hear is “Wow, she looks just like (Y/N) when she was younger!” And it’s absolutely true. Down to the hair and the cheeks and the brightest smile ever to grace the world. She’s picked up a lot from you too. Even from her young age, your daughter wants to save the world by being a kind and sweet little lady. Under her care, the lonely animals find solace in her tiny hands.

The pads of her fingers poke Daichi’s cheek as he bounces her on his leg. This waiting room is more than dismal. You’d think that if they want to cheer up families with news that could go either way, they’d brighten up the place. But nope, they’ve got rough chairs and dim lighting that makes Daichi want to leave the building.

“Sweetheart, would you like to get out of here for a bit?” Daichi’s lungs hurt in this space that just guarantees disaster. This was the hospital where one of his teammates revived after a rough collision and their team lied in wait. This was the hospital where his friend arrived with a cold and only returned to be placed in a final resting place. This hospital only knows how to take people away from him, but he’s determined to get you back, no matter the consequence.

“Are you sure, Daddy? Mommy will be scared if we leave!” Oh, the innocence of toddlers perpetuates Daichi’s lifespan, but not so much that he’ll willingly stay here.

“Mommy is okay, she’s in the safe hands of some really powerful people. They’re going to make her even better.” Daichi holds himself back from making any promises. Those bonds are too strong to break so if you ended up passing away, he wouldn’t know how to make his daughter feel better, let alone himself.

“Okay, let’s go out!” She swings out her arms and legs like a general. Already at a young age acting up a storm. Daichi didn’t know if this special talent should be cultivated or something to be monitored closely. Being outside is much better for him anyway. The trees sway in the wind and the process of life reminds him that the world goes on whether he likes it or not. He doesn’t want to move on at the moment. The only answer he’ll take is you’re better and back at home with him and your daughter.

Daichi takes solace on a park bench, watching his daughter hang on playground installments. She’s just like you. If you were here right now, you would be trying your best to fit in the slide or grip the monkey bars with your feet half a foot close to the ground. His phone is out because pure moments unravel right before his eyes. His heart is happy. He’ll be happier when he gets to show this video to you.

After a while, Daichi’s eyes open up to his daughter climbing on him. “Daddy, we should go back to Mommy now. I’m done playing.”

Turning his fist toward himself, Daichi notes the time. “You’re right. Let’s go, baby.”

Even at this age, she drags you and your husband around. “She’s a boss if I’ve ever seen one,” you say to Daichi one day as she places her dolls in a neat line. “Must’ve gotten it from you.” Daichi chuckles as you hip bump him. That was only a few months ago. Life has been changing since then.

Daichi believes that his daughter is starting to pick up on all of the cues. All of the hospital papers are spread on the dining room table, the usual bus trips to and from “mommy’s building,” and most of all, she loves the lady at the reception desk because she receives lollipops. That’s what she looks forward to, but his daughter has a few lessons of sympathy and understanding under her belt when she enters the room where her mother resides, only for the moment, God willing.

They say hello to the woman at the desk. Without a beat, she sticks out a lollipop grasped in her hand. “Thank you!”

Your daughter is more than excited to receive such simple gifts. The process of you becoming sick has been a long time going. “These are to keep her strong,” you told Daichi when you went to the supermarket before the first ever checkup you had concerning your illness two years ago. Little toys and sweet squares of chocolate scattered in the basket while you two lined the aisles.

“I think buying these are to keep you strong, love. Our baby is strong, she just needs to see her mom strong too.” Daichi squeezed your hand.

“You’re right, but you’ve got to stop talking before you make me cry,” you laughed shakily as the words slipped through your lips. It’s hard to utter such depressing words as a young woman. Your baby was nearing the age of two and it’s not fair for her to live in an egg-shelled world. When she was born, you two could have definitely earned the award for being the world’s proudest parents. “We did that, Daichi. We did that.” The first year went swimmingly — as in you were swimming in baby items and baby responsibilities, but everyday you prayed thanksgiving for the family you’ve created.

Now, your arms and legs ache for the slightest movements in this itchy hospital bed. You always thought that this kind of thing would never happen to you, and look where you are now: bedridden. You’re back where you started, from your beginning and your baby’s beginning. Somehow, you always land back here. And it’s unfair. You’ve grown up with vegetables on your plate, jogging every other day with your dad, and you knew Daichi was the one when you saw him play in a championship match. You were surrounded by healthy, up until all you were was unhealthy.

“Sweetheart!”

“Hi, mommy!” You’ve never been so grateful for the fact that your daughter isn’t deterred by the tubes running up and down your body, taking the place of your veins. She sees you all the same.

“Hi, honey.” Daichi presses his lips to your forehead and sinks into the chair they provided in the room. He doesn’t look necessarily out of it, but you know the circles under his eyes haven’t been forgiving lately. “Some friends are coming by soon, they’ll pick her up and bring her out.”

It’s hard on your daughter to undertake a portion of a burden that isn’t even hers, but is it better that she doesn’t fully know the situation? Would it be worse if she was ten or twelve? What about fourteen, fifteen, sixteen? How would she have reacted to her mother not being able to care for her only daughter?

It’s easy to drop into pitfalls when you allow your mind to run anywhere. Your inner self isn’t looking down at her feet, just lifting each sole when it is ready to move. When you drop, it is difficult to get out because sometimes, there is no outside stimulation. When Daichi leaves for work or after visiting hours are over, you turn to the television for entertainment. You soon learn that the programs are repeated and you’ll be watching the same one that was on three hours ago.

“(D/N), uncles Koushi and Asahi are here for you,” Daichi says as he gets up to greet his friends at the sliding door. They enter the room and lead themselves toward you. It’s no shock by now; they’ve picked up (D/N) so that she has her cousins to play with every few days. However, the raised eyebrows and slightly parted lips on Asahi’s face tell you otherwise.

Suga is the first person to speak up. “How are you feeling right now, (Y/N)?” After the surgery two days ago, your body is running on pure medication. Despite that, you feel like you’ve gotten hit by a truck.

“Feeling better.” You have to feel better soon. When you can return to your home and start heading back to work, that is when you’ll feel more at ease. But for now, another second in the hospital is another second wasted.

The skin on your bones looks translucent, and if you shift the hospital gown to one side, you can see the bruising that accompanies the stitches on your oblique. You are a shell of a human with a soul on a loose tether. Daichi can see it too. He is trying to bring you back, but nothing will feel normal until you return to your old routines.

Nothing will be the same after you can sleep in your bed at home. You won’t be able to flop onto the mattress, forcing creases into the duvet. Every sleep will need to be on your back because if you roll to your side, you’ll be pressing on the stitches. You won’t be able to sleep intimately with your husband and this probably means the next generation of your family tree will end with your daughter.

“You okay, (Y/N)? Koushi and Asahi left with (D/N), and she tried saying bye but you seemed a little far.” As Daichi pulls on the chair to scoot closer to you, it scratches on the tiles and emits a painful sound. “Sorry about that.” He settles into the chair and takes your hand into both of his. His fingers are butterflies across your pierced skin, light and delicate.

“I’m scared, Daichi,” you admit for the hundredth time, but each time the words come out of your mouth is a pang to your heart. “I don’t know how I’m going to be if I get out of here.”

“You’re not dying, (Y/N). Don’t say those kinds of things.” His voice is stern but his eyes swim in pools of water. He hates to hear that you bring yourself down in the fragile mental state you are in.

“Your life is my life’s best part,” you mumble, hearing fatigue asking you to succumb to it. Nevertheless, you continue to speak to your husband. “You’re the reason why I want to get better, even if I don’t think I will.”

“But you will, and I know you will. I know you, (Y/N). You are the strongest person I know. Your life is my life’s best part, too.” You can see him brushing his hands against his face when he lets go of your fingers. “Rest, (Y/N). You need it to be strong.”

“Yes, I have to be strong for you and our baby.” You murmur before your eyes shut and your head sinks into the pillow. The last thing you feel is your husband’s lips pressed against your forehead and you finally drift off into the first sleep where you feel lighter than your body. Everything will be okay.


End file.
